Hello again! Welcome back to another chapter!
So sorry for the late posting! I had to reimagine this chapter a few times before I felt like I got it right, so I will do my best to make it up to you and post again soon! I am really motivated to get through these last few intro chapters to really jump into the story, even though I absolutely love Argyle and had a great time seeing Jada from his perspective/ their interactions.
Anyways…. without any further ado… ENJOY THE CHAPTER!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments. Sorry. :)
CHAPTER 3: THEM THAT FURTHEST COME BEHIND
Argyle Silverspear hurried through the cobblestone streets of Alicante, balancing a teetering stack of hardcover books and (as always) hopelessly late for his lessons.
If it wasn't for this particular short-cut, he doubted he would have made it through the semester. The Academy had tried to suspend him once or twice before for his frequent tardiness, and Argyle silently thanked his parabatai, Emile, for the old recommendation as he darted through the length of the narrow alley.
Windowless buildings rose on either side of him like the plains of an oddly-shaped mountain range, shrouding the undulating path in ominous shadow. A beam of afternoon sunlight beckoned from the other end of the alley, but the darkness of the space between only seemed to elevate Argyle's natural lack of coordination. With an exclamation of surprise, he side-stepped to avoid tripping over a poorly-placed ceramic flower pot, nicked the corner of it inelegantly with his ankle, and stumbled over his own clumsy feet. Sucking in a gasp, Argyle lunged forward to reclaim his balance – gritting his teeth as he barely stopped himself (and his wobbling, eye-level pile of books) from plummeting to the cobblestone below.
It took a few seconds for him to ensure that he had not dropped anything. Afterward, he groaned at his own awkwardness, let his shoulders relax, and cautiously took the last few steps to the end of the alley.
The square it opened to was one Argyle knew well – one of the final landmarks before reaching Alicante's prestigious Shadowhunter Academy. Honey gold cobblestone carpeted the ground, broken up here and there with sculpted stone benches and multicolored florae spilling from the meticulously manicured flower beds. On the leftmost corner of the square, a familiar building rose up, far taller and more elegant than the others, although it looked decades overdue for maintenance. Its sharply peaked roof loomed over the square like one of the crystal towers scattered around the city, shadowing the vast marble terrace circling the front door.
Alicante's Orphanage.
He regarded the ornate banister with a tinge of remorse and bitter nostalgia. To his disappointment, a few, spidering cracks now ran through the pale stone like collapsed veins – marring the once-beautiful craftsmanship of the building with the neglect of forgotten age – and the sight made him cringe.
It was difficult to not get lost in memory, looking at this square. And regardless of how many times he had passed through it in the two years since that horrible day, it was still odd to see the Orphanage as it was now: peaceful… almost cheerful, even, despite its weathered appearance.
Sunlight flooded the cobblestone now, not rainwater. The sound of chirping birds filled the air, instead of the churning of the lightning and thunder… Even so, he could still almost see the witchlight illuminating the square, see the soldiers circling the entrance… Feel his heart jump to his throat in horror as they lunged in on their target –
With an unexpected slam, the double doors to the giant building flew open, and Argyle's nerves finally got the better of him.
He jumped back anxiously at the abrupt noise and fumbled his stack of books awkwardly in his arms – but this time, luck was not on his side. The volumes clattered to the ground in an explosion of fluttering pages, untidy notes, and weathered brass. Parchment tumbled through the air like fluttering flower petals, covering the ground like snow. Silently cursing his lack of coordination, Argyle bent to pick the largest volume from the scattered pile of paper and leather, rubbing an ugly scuff that had newly blossomed on its cover – as he glanced, more in curiosity than admonishment, to the source of the sound.
When his gaze finally fixated on the terrace, a thriving crowd had emerged from the orphanage, pouring over the semi-circle staircase like a tidal wave breaking through a dam. A throng of over two dozen children rushed out of the door – all of them well under the age of ten and dressed in a sea of matching beige uniforms. They were screeching over each other like a flock of seagulls, gleefully skipping around a much taller figure that emerged from the doorway, hidden in the glare of the afternoon sun.
At first, he assumed it must have been the Headmistress, the woman that ran the Orphanage – but the longer the moment went on, the more it did not feel right. There was something in the way this figure moved… something captivating that could not be accurately put into words.
Shielding his eyes, he blinked at the vision and hopelessly tried to make sense of it all.
But once the details of the figure came into focus, Argyle felt the realization like a blow, driving into his gut with more force than a charging bull.
It was a young woman that was scaling down the steps of the Orphanage's terrace – not the Headmistress – and sunlight illuminated the outline of her trenchcoated form like the halo of an angel. She was strikingly beautiful, eye-catchingly graceful, instantly familiar - and his heart constricted like a rock in his chest when he finally realized who it was.
The way it always had, he supposed, whenever he saw Jada Buonavento.
Fighting the urge to turn tail and run, he slunk back into the safety of the alley, choking on his own bewildered shock. His mind felt oddly numb, frozen in place.
There had not been a single day, in the last year, where Argyle had not thought about her, wondered how she was doing, craved to visit her house in the country – but he knew of course, that it would not have been possible. Their last meeting had made her intentions all too clear.
Whatever world she was planning to build had no place for him in it – and seeing her now, feeling his heart thunder eagerly in his chest at her nearness, only served as a bitter reminder. The longing for something that would never be.
Much to his confusion, the first thing he noticed about Jada was that her hair was down: rippling like a waterfall of black ink that bounced against her tiny waist with every elegant step. She didn't usually wear it loose like that, but for some reason, it seemed to suit her.
Dozens of tiny hands were pulling her in infinite directions. A few children tugged on the fabric of her long jacket, a few luckier ones had wrapped their little paws around her fingers, guiding her to the square. All of them had turned their faces upward to look at her, studying her with beaming, heart-melting adoration, as they clamored at her heels.
But even as a swarm of chattering children churned around her, Jada was peacefully radiant. Her narrowed eyes were blissfully hooded, the curve of her lips soft and tender…
She looked like her mother, he realized with a start. Maria Buonavento had always had that pervasive, affectionate warmth – that saintly glow that drew people in. But catching that look on Jada's face now was something that he'd never thought he would see. It was so seldom that Jada showed any vulnerable emotion like that… It was almost bizarre, to see, in a way…
But the last time he saw her, Argyle reminded himself, she had not looked so healthy and happy – and despite everything, it made a slight smile creep to his lips, to see her that way.
"Miss Jada – wait!" a tiny, desperate voice exclaimed.
Before Argyle could wonder at its source, a little girl darted from the Orphanage's open doorway, barreling toward Jada as if Hell itself was following after her.
The girl must have been familiar to Jada somehow. The other children parted to let her pass, and Jada smoothly turned to smile at her. Ducking to her knees, Jada scooped the little girl to her arms, and lovingly rested her on her hip in a single, fluid motion. The girl looked about five or so years old, not necessarily easy to lift, but Jada didn't seem to mind. She gazed at her as if she was the silver lining in a storm cloud.
"Ah, Celeste, ma belle," she warmly greeted. "How I have missed you. You've grown taller since my last visit."
Argyle stomach flipped at the sound of Jada's voice, but there was no time to waste, as far as Celeste seemed concerned. She regarded Jada through her curtain of tight golden ringlets with a look of stony determination.
"No! You can't go yet –" she objected breathlessly. Adorably, she scrambled in her coat for something. "I just got a new book for us to read together."
"A new book?" echoed Jada, quizzically. "But I just read through 'The Little Prince' with you all." Insistently, the little girl offered out a small note-book sized novel, and after a second of hesitation, Jada took it with a widening smile. "Let's see, then…" she murmured, obligingly scanning the cover. "'Alice in Wonderland', is it? This was one of my favorites, when I was your age." She handed back the novel, fondly tapped her fingertip against the little girl's nose, and lowered her back to the ground. The smile she offered was a bit rueful as she rustled Celeste's wild hair. "Keep this with you for now, darling. I can read it to you on my next visit. I think I've already overstayed my welcome for today."
"Oh! No, you haven't!" The little girl turned to the open door of the orphanage in wide-eyed panic. "She hasn't overstayed, has she?"
"She never does, Celeste," a new voice warmly replied.
Argyle jumped in surprise.
He had been so fixated on Jada that he had completely missed the matronly figure hovering in the building's open doorway, her sleeved arms leisurely crossed over her chest. He had only seen this new woman once or twice before – but he knew she had been running the Orphanage for years. Their Headmistress, as the little girl had said.
"Come children," the older woman instructed, "it is time to go inside." When the children did not move to obey, she grinned playfully, making her look years younger. "If you keep pestering Miss Buonavento like this," she teased, smoothing back her silver hair, "she may never come back."
The young mob stopped in their tracks, every member of the group throwing a sudden, supplicating lip-pout at their visitor.
Jada returned the children's pleading stares with a conspiratory smirk. That devilish gleam to her eyes returned, and Argyle saw a flicker of her father, lingering in her dark irises like a shadow. "Listen to your Headmistress, bambini," she chided gently. "You know she makes the rules."
A cacophony of shrill protests resounded from the children. They all mobbed around Jada as they irritably bounced on their heels.
"But – you can't go yet!"
"Not fair!"
"No – Miss Jada -"
"Five more minutes? Please?"
"I thought you said you would read us one more chapter!"
With a light chuckle, Jada brushed their eager petitions away. "It will need to wait until next time," she replied shortly. None of the children moved, as if waiting to see if her answer might change with a little persistence. As if she could read their minds, Jada crossed her arms across her chest and pointedly raised her eyebrows. "Well, you heard her, didn't you?" she insisted. "Go on, now. Inside."
Another chorus of grumbling complaints rose, but this one died down quickly.
In bizarre sync, every shoulder in the crowd drooped. Dragging their heels, the children lumbered past the Headmistress and back into the Orphanage, like a line of moody, plainly dressed ants.
When they had filed through the door, the Headmistress met Jada's gaze over the balcony of the terrace. It was hard to tell from the distance, but she seemed to be grinning. "You have a kind heart, Jada Buonavento. Kinder than most." the older woman offered. There was a wealth of respect of in her sympathetic grey eyes – along with plenty of genuine gratitude. "You've been regularly visiting these children for the last two years. Not many would make such a sacrifice with their time."
"It is no sacrifice," Jada insisted, brushing off the hem of her dress. "They help me far more than I help them." She threw an intrigued glance at the other woman. "Things seem to be going well, though, recently. A testament to your leadership, of course."
The Headmistress sighed lightly.
"I'm sure it is you we should be thanking for the Orphanage's success." The older woman's grey eyes glanced far into the distance, lost in memory. "The donations you have been giving the orphanage is the only thing that has been keeping us afloat for the last few years…" Slowly, she scanned Jada over from head to toe. "I'm not sure I can ever repay you, for what you have done for us."
Something humored flickered in her eyes as Jada dropped a conspiring wink
"Think of it less as a donation and more as a compensation for your care of my little brother, all those years ago." Thoughtfully, she shrugged. "Us orphans need to stick together, after all."
The Headmistress couldn't seem to stop herself from smiling, and Argyle couldn't blame her. Jada's charm wasn't an easy thing to resist.
"If you insist," she muttered, turning to the doorway. When she turned back to Jada, her silvery eyebrows were questioningly arched. "You'll be back in a couple weeks, I take it?"
"Of course." replied Jada with a smirk. "I wouldn't miss it."
After a final, respectful nod, the Headmistress sneaked inside the Orphanage and closed the towering front door. Its squealing hinges were the last sound that echoed in the air before the square dissolved into a thick, pure silence, and Argyle nervously held his breath.
So Jada had been visiting the Orphanage – ever since Theo had been taken here? In a way, Argyle supposed it make perfect sense. She had always had a soft spot for children – had always wanted to have her own – and the kids here certainly seemed to be fond of her…
To Argyle's surprise, Jada spent a full minute studying the Orphanage once the door was shut – her gaze lingering regretfully on the ornate stone building before she started to walk away. Absently, like a reflex, her hand slipped to her abdomen – resting there as if feeling the pain of an old injury – and Argyle was so shocked by the wealth of rueful emotion on her face that he almost forgot to stay buried in the shadows.
Quickly, Argyle took another step back into the mouth of the dark alleyway – praying that he could hide from her sight. But, as if she sensed him, Jada stiffened and turned around. Her gaze shot quickly over her trenchcoated shoulder and directly into his widened eyes where he huddled in the alley.
He was pleased to note that she looked almost… surprised. It wasn't an easy thing to do – not with Jada Buonavento. If circumstances were any different, the realization probably would have pleased him. But as it was, his anxiety had made him feel ready to throw up on his shoes.
Almost instantly, her expression guardedly closed, and her hand dropped quickly to her side.
"Argyle Silverspear?" she mused, as if the thought entertained her. Her head tilted inquisitively to the side, making her dark hair shimmer in the light. "Is that you?"
His face was blazing, as if the afternoon sun had decided to directly target the planes of his cheekbones with full force. After an uneven wobble, the topmost volume in his teetering stack of books fell again, landing open on its back with a resounding smack. Hastily, Argyle cringed and scrambled to pick it up from the cobblestone, avoiding direct eye contact.
"Oh – Oh," he stammered, as if he had just seen her. "Jada."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Argyle wanted to punch himself in the face.
There were thousands of things he could have said. Millions of ways he had dreamt this reunion to play out. But, as always, his tongue knotted in his mouth whenever he saw her – and in the moment, all he could manage to spit out was: 'Oh. Jada'.
Like a blubbering idiot.
As lovely as ever, Jada smirked at his reply – and it made his heart jump needlessly in his chest. Argyle had been unsure of how she would have reacted to seeing him, given the way their last conversation had ended, but watching her smile at him was, somehow, deeply reassuring.
He turned away from her and focused on a crack blooming in the wall of the building beside him – the only way to make words spill from his mouth. "How – How did you know it was me?" he asked.
Because she is staring right at you, you imbecile, his inner voice answered.
One glance into her eyes and he knew she had read him like the morning paper – perhaps, he realized with nauseous remorse, even sided slightly with his 'imbecile' comment – but her tone, when she next spoke, was surprisingly warm. A breeze cut through the square, and the wind ran its fingers through her long hair in a way that made him irrationally jealous.
"I've never seen another man rival your talent for clumsiness," chuckled Jada, eyeing the mess of books and papers at his feet. Unlike him, she was effortlessly sophisticated. The sway of her long, open coat, the way the dark, modest dress underneath fitted to her knees, the clean point of her stilettos – all of it was perfect. With a smile, her gaze darted across the square, as if she could see the soaring Academy through the endless line of townhouses in between. "Or your chronic tardiness…" she wryly finished, gesturing to the thick volumes cradled incongruously in his arms. "Were you on your way to class?"
If he had been his parabatai, Argyle would have elegantly slid to her side, offered her his arm, thrown in some suave invitation to accompany him… But he had never been that kind of man…
Again, the words choked in the back of his throat. All he could do was nod and cough uncomfortably, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath as he scrambled to pick up his papers, rose to his feet, and tried to avoid looking her in the eye.
If Emile had been alive, Argyle was sure that he would have laughed.
He could feel Jada watching him, her eyes studying his form. "I have some free time," she murmured; the invitation he could not manage to spit out. Her brown eyes scanned his over once more and, after a moment, she raised a shadowy eyebrow at him. "Walk with me? We could go to the Academy together."
So she really was just the same as always, Argyle realized with a twist of wistful joy. Still as cool and smooth as an icicle.
Without waiting for him to respond, she turned and began walking purposefully in the direction of the Academy, her hands buried in her coat pockets. Argyle, in comparison, made an inelegant noise and tried not to drop his books again as he shuffled forward.
Of course, it took all the effort he could muster to keep from stumbling as he crossed the square.
Cobblestone, while being aesthetically pleasing, tended to be full of uneven rolls that made it an uncoordinated person's worst nightmare – but even in stilettos, Jada looked like she was gliding on air. Another gale tossed her hair just before he reached her, flooding the breeze with her flowery, feminine perfume. He tried to ignore how the scent rushed to his head like a shot of hard alcohol, muddling his thoughts in a pleasant haze.
"I suppose I should congratulate you," she mused, smiling a few paces ahead of him.
Experimentally, Argyle hurried to her side and glanced down at her, over his messy armful of books. Despite having enough intel to turn Downworld on its head, Jada had never been very physically imposing. (Well, the striking beauty, aside, Argyle amended.) Even with the heels, she was only slightly above average height, the crown of her raven head hovering just below his collarbone. Quickly, her piercing eyes darted up to meet his, and his heart almost jumped through his throat.
"C – Congratulate me? On – on what?" he stammered.
His lack of composure seemed to humor her.
"For getting a mentorship with the Silent City's Head Medic, of course," Jada ruminated, drawing him out of his thoughts. "He usually doesn't take apprentices." Argyle's jaw dropped in surprise, but she did not seem to take notice. The trenchant focus of her gaze had moved again, honing in on some spot far in Alicante's distance. Although a flicker of a smile passed over her lips, her mind seemed somewhere else. "Vying for a position on the Council, are you, Argyle Silverspear?" she prodded. "Head Medic perhaps? You are certainly capable of it."
"How – how did you know about that?!" wondered Argyle incredulously.
Very few Clave members knew that he was training under the current Head Medic – and he had been trying to keep it that way. Argyle knew the fact that he had mentored under Jada's father, Riccardo Buonavento, did not sit well with many Clave members. Despite Riccardo's well-known genius, he had been very public about his support of the Accords and Shadowhunter-Downwolder relations… And that political allegiance wasn't information that Argyle suspected would have served the Councilman's reputation well – and they had both thought it for the best to keep their apprenticeship as confidential as possible.
For a moment, Argyle was perplexed at how she could have possibly gotten the information – but then, this was Jada he was talking to.
'Information' was her area of expertise.
"Did you think I wouldn't keep tabs on you?" she chuckled, confirming his thoughts. Moments later, Jada dropped her head and the volume of her voice, focusing meditatively at the ground. "Theo misses you, you know. It's been almost two years, since you last visited him... I was beginning to wonder if he would ever see you again."
Wordlessly, Argyle sighed. "You were the one, I recall, that told me to stay away from him."
"I told you to stay away from me," Jada clarified with even delicacy. Despite the smoothness of her tone, the line of her jaw had become unswervingly resolute. "For your own protection, might I add. That boy was never part of our agreement."
Bitterness tightened his throat. "Then why would you bother to talk to me now?" he countered.
"Perhaps I have missed our friendship," she replied simply, and his pulse skyrocketted. A strange longing crept into her voice and eyes – and even Argyle, who had known her for years, could not decide whether the expression was true or feigned.
Trying to ignore the hope Jada had ignited, he shifted his textbooks restlessly in his arms.
'Friendship', he tried to remind himself. Friendship and nothing more.
"Of course," he offered, not without humor, "I'm sure that being one of the most powerful figures in Downworld must get pretty lonely."
Jada shrugged. "I have always been comfortable with loneliness. The chaos of it all can be burdensome."
"How so?"
An airy wave. "Everyone is struggling to either outdo me or undermine me. The game tends to escalate rather quickly. So many moving parts."
Argyle swallowed loudly. "Perhaps you should try to find someone who can keep up with you. Someone to share the burden."
Unexpectedly, Jada laughed at that – true, genuine laugher.
"Trying to find me a husband, are you, Silverspear? Now you sound like my Aunt," she playfully accused. It was almost easy to imagine they were years younger, bantering in the Halls of the Academy again… But, far too soon, her dark eyes were grave and Argyle was drawn back to reality. "I've met my fair share of men, in my lifetime…" she offered coolly. "All of them have been uninteresting or unpromising. Man's startling lack of complexity has forced me to take solace in the polar opposite –"
Argyle started to feel his skin turn green.
"The opposite of men?!" he spluttered.
"The opposite of complexity," corrected Jada with an emphatic eye-roll. "Simplicity, Argyle," she sighed, catching his horrified gape. "Solace in simplicity."
For a single terrifying moment, Argyle still thought she meant romantic partners and had no clue what she meant. But then he was reminded of the crowd that had circled her only minutes ago, begging for her to stay five more minutes, to read one more chapter. Children who wanted nothing more than the simple offering of her time.
"Is that why you visit the Orphanage?" he wondered, hoping it was true.
Memory darkened her expression, and he noticed her hands balled to fists inside her pockets. "Part of the reason," she replied shortly.
On some instinctive level, he knew they were thinking the same thing. Recalling the bitter, terrible night that the Clave had taken her to the Guard. It was not something that he had particularly wanted to dwell on and he glanced away.
"The Headmaster at the Orphanage resigned, you know," began Argyle, dodging the subject. "A few weeks after you were released from the Silent City…" He peered sidelong at her and caught a glimmer of a devilish smirk, right before she turned her face away… Knowing exactly what that look meant, he groaned. "Oh, Jada… Please don't tell me you –"
"Don't." She raised a quelling hand, humor lacing her tone. "Don't say 'blackmail'. You know I hate that word."
"Well it was you, wasn't it?" he insisted. "You made him step down. Did he say something, when you went to collect Theo?"
Jada glanced at him, her expression wry. They were passing over a small stone bridge, now, a narrow pedestrian path that bowed above a glittering canal. A clear blue stream snaked between a row of townhouses on either side of the channel, dividing them as if by a chain of vibrant, flowing sapphires.
The low purr of Jada's voice was a lullaby, sweetly mingling with the soft trickle of the stream below. "I don't deny having a particularly stern conversation with the Headmaster before his resignation," she admitted, "if that is what you are implying..."
Argyle stared in horror. "So you did blackmail him."
"I advised him," corrected Jada, rather insistently. "I advised him to step down from his position at the Orphanage and advised him on what I would do if he didn't…" She carelessly shrugged. "What he decides to do with his career after that is his choice."
'Advised', huh? Argyle sighed, blowing a few locks of his wild bangs from his face.
Of all the women in this world, he wondered, why did he have to fall in love with the most terrifying one? Out loud, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "So... the Orsa business must still be doing well, then."
Luckily, the streets surrounding the Academy were surprisingly clear. Probably, Argyle registered with a pinch of guilt, because anyone who would have come to the Academy at this time of the morning should have already been in class. Mentally, Argyle kicked himself for his lack of punctuality. It was only a matter of time before the Head Medic's mercy would finally run out… And like Jada said, he so rarely took apprentices…
With a shake of his head, Argyle focused back on their conversation.
"Business is… interesting," she mused carefully.
Argyle couldn't hold back his concern. "'Interesting' or 'dangerous'?"
To his horror, a strange, morbid amusement turned the corners of her lips. "In my experience," she replied, "the two usually go hand-in-hand."
Argyle grimaced.
That was a statement, he supposed, that perfect summarized why he would never truly capture her attention. On the best of days, he felt about as 'dangerous' as a pair of fuzzy house slippers.
"That sounds like something your father would say," grumbled Argyle instead. "Right before diving headfirst into trouble."
In a flash of dark, waving hair, Jada threw her head back and laughed again. "Are you still playing that 'Knight-in-Shining-Armor' card?" Behind the long strokes of her eyelashes, her irises were chips of rich bark, flecked with shards of honey-amber. They narrowed playfully at him as she added, "You'll never tame me, you know."
As if I could, he scoffed internally.
He caught Jada grin out of the corner of his eye, and Argyle paled in mute horror, praying that the comment had not shown in his face.
She had led them to the entrance gate of Alicante's Academy – a type of decorative stone archway that led to the perfectly manicured school grounds and the gleaming castle-sized building in the distance. This morning, the gate was open, the intricate weaving of its crystal bars gleaming in the sun. They were made of the same material as the crystal towers that warded the city, he knew, and were nearly translucent in the morning light.
He made to step through the gateway in habit, expecting Jada to follow with him as she would have a few years ago. But Jada stayed where she was with her arms lazily crossed, reminding him that while she was four years younger than him, only twenty-one years old at the moment, she had finished her graduate studies well before him. Every inch the genius that the Clave had branded her as.
Turning around, he slowly studied her face.
"I doubt there is a man on this earth that can tame you," Argyle replied genuinely, lingering in the entrance. "I'm waiting."
"Waiting?" Fascination glimmered in her eyes, flickering like a light bulb. It was that very intelligence that had made him fall for her – and seeing it now made his chest tighten convulsively. "For what?" she wondered.
He set his jaw. "For you to give up this 'Orsa' business and realize what a good person you really are."
"Ah. That." Pensively, Jada clasped her bronzed hands behind her back as paced the gate's opening. Sarcasm had curled the corners of her mouth to a cruel smile. "I forgot you were such an optimist, Argyle Silverspear. It is refreshing, albeit futile. I will rule the Invisible World, one day, after I reform the Clave. I cannot make it there without getting a little dirt on my hands."
"It doesn't work that way," he countered, gaining an impressed eyebrow-raise from Jada. Purple and amber flashed in his windswept black hair, becoming even more dazzling as he turned to look at her. "You can't keep doing the wrong things for the right reasons. You were meant to build this world up, not tear it down... Sooner or later, you will have to admit who you really are. Have to stop playing the villain…" Argyle looked her dead in the eyes, trying to ignore the way it made his heart clamor in his chest. "And when that happens, I hope I will be here to say, 'I told you so.'"
Her initial surprise dissolved into her usual arrogant smirk.
With a chuckle, Jada spun on her feet, walking in the direction of the Orphanage from where she came. Her black coat swayed against her heels like a flag – as if she was a walking embodiment of the banner of darkness she seemed so inevitably drawn toward.
"Then I have much to accomplish, before my conscience catches up to me," she called, waving her bronzed hand at him. Despite his best effort, he found his eyes lingering on the curve of her hips, her body rocking like a ship's sway as she retreated. Blushing, he looked away. "It was good talking to you, Argyle. I always enjoy our conversations."
Then maybe we should have them more often, his mind replied, but for some reason, the words couldn't make it to his lips. A lump formed in his throat and he tried to swallow it without success. "May the Angel guard you, Jada Buonavento," he called instead, injecting as much meaning into the words as he could muster.
Her body stopped – suddenly a statue standing rigid against the quaint residences framing her. In all black, she was a shocking, dark contrast to the pale stone and charming wooden beams of the Idrisian architecture. Not something that belonged with the cheery sunlight streaming through the streets and the lively twitter of birds that fluttered over the buildings.
He wondered if she felt it as well.
A gust of wind picked up again, tossing her long coat and hair.
"The Angel doesn't guard those like me," she replied, her tone suddenly thoughtful. "Stay safe, Argyle Silverspear."
The comment filled him with a sick unease – the same heart-dropping anxiety as when she had snapped the pack leader's neck, two short years ago.
"Jada!" Argyle exclaimed, ready to argue with her.
But she was already disappearing into the shadows of the townhouses lining the street, growing farther from him with every echoing step.
Ahhh! How did you like it? I think Argyle is so sweet. :) P.S. If you are wondering about the 'last meeting' Argyle refers to, it will be covered in Flashback 5 (the final flashback I have planned (for now?) in The Hunt).
P.S.S. The next chapter (Flashback 4) is Jada getting released from the Guard! :D It is a bit of a sad chapter to write, but all of you who have read through the Mortal Instruments trilogy to the City of Glass, you will (or should) have an 'AHA!' moment at something Jada says at the end… (You'll know what I mean sooo~oon. ;) Muahahaha!)
Thanks for all the love and support! I hope to see you all next chapter!
Love, Fishie.